Sight
by Anne Awesome
Summary: Arthur Kirkland knew he was different from the start. it seemed even his brothers didnt share his gifts. he was given the gift to "see" beyond what normal humans could. or so he had been told, by a ghost that lives with him. when his life takes a downward spiral, his ghostly protector is his only company, until, that is, a certain american enters his life.
1. Chapter 1

**Ghost guardian **

_**Ok. New story. This is eventual USUK and OCXOC, don't like, don't read, simple as. Reviews would be appreciated, and the first actual chapter will be posted soon. I own nothing but the plot and my OC`s. it will make more sense as the story progresses (if your confused about Alma and her abilities and limitations) reviews if you'd like me to continue! (thought I'd try that out, I really appreciate it when I hear what people think.) it was originally going to be called Ghost Guardian, tell me if you like that title better! enjoy~! ~A.A**_

_Alma. I'm not sure how long she`s been here, she just always has been, from the day I was born, she had said. She's always looked out for me, when no one else did. She`s been there my whole life, and no one else could see her. She told me, for as long as I could remember; _

"_your special, you have a gift, you can see me. Normal people can't unless I give them this power, you didn't need me to give it too you, you can see other magical creatures too. But you can't tell people you can, since they cant see, they won't understand, and it won't end up well for you, but don't worry there will be some who will understand." _

_I didn't quite get it at first, and spoke to her in front of my parents, and rarely my brothers._

_Then when my mother sat me down and explained my imaginary friend "Alma" wasn't real, and I needed to grow out of it, in the subtle motherly way only she could pull off, I got it. _

_Because she couldn't see my friend, she thought it was my imagination. I was almost 8 then. And I had figured out id be carted to the Looney bin if I kept talking to her like that. I had asked her if she was imaginary, and she said no. she explained even though it may feel like she is, like I may be losing my mind, I'm not. I was just gifted._

_And so, as I approached my teens, my oldest brother, Alistair, my second oldest brother, Dylan and the brother closest to his age, Patrick. my three brothers all were born in different places, as our mother used to travel with our father, why, we were never told. At least I wasn't. all I know is we settled in the outskirts of London. _

_When I was 15, my brother finally visited from Scotland. Where he had moved after college. When he saw me, he looked, surprised, but I thought it was because he hadn't seen me since I was 8, but Alma had told me something else entirely. _

_Turns out, he, like me, had "the sight" I name I had learned, for being able to see like I could. It was referred to as "the sight" and being able to "see" he had been concerned for the spirit he had occasionally seen around me. He thought it would go away, that our mother would call a priest, should it make a move, turns out it was still there. _

_And would be till the day I died, and after that, apparently. He had confronted Alma and had been given some form of explination good enough for him to be on friendship terms with the ghost girl, or woman rather. She had said she died at 25, and so she was still 25. I was sad she hadn't lived for that long, but then again she reminded me, she has seen what came afterwards first hand. So I left it there. _

_Even though I didn't know her history, her human name, or anything but her personality, (which I knew to a T, since I've known her since birth) all I know is her "ghost" name, Alma, she said she would tell me everything when I'm ready…_

_When I was 16, almost 17, tragedy had befallen my home. I had discovered that Alma, could, in fact, become human, though not for more than 12 hours. So I was delighted, and then, we were left home alone one night, I wasn't feeling too well, my parents had gone out to a pharmacy (a 20 minute drive away) to pick up some medicine. So while me and Alma (in her human form) watched a movie, my parents had left me in the care of Alistair._

_Who, because he knew about her, was quite happy to watch movies with us. But retired early, work, he had said. And so the doorbell rang, and I went to get it, Alma shifted awkwardly, and I thought nothing of it. So I went to the door, and got a shock. Two grim looking police officers stood at my door, holding their caps in their hands. That was unheard of. _

"_Alistair Kirkland?" one with blonde hair asked, I shook my head. "im his brother, Arthur Kirkland. Can I help you?" I said, what had my brother done?! I had thought. _

_The other, a man with brown hair and amber eyes, pale as a sheet, though. Put a hand on my shoulder while the other, with long blonde hair and blue eyes stood by him. Looking just as pale. It was suspense until he said;_

"_im sorry, lad. Your parents have just been reported killed in an accident on the main road." _

_And my jaw dropped, I could hear Alma drop something, I turned around and saw… Alistair standing in his pyjamas at the top of the stairs, looking shocked beyond recognition. _

_That was when I had heard my parents died and until I was 17 and a half, no further tragedy had occurred. Alma helped me through it, and so had my brothers, I relyed on them totally, we all relyed on each other, than Patrick got sick, and we took him to hospital they did a few tests, and we found out he had a few months left to live. _

_Alma picked up the pieces there too, even Alistair was crying, and I had seen him cry only once, and that was when we had heard of our parents deaths. _

_He died and before I was even 18, I had two brothers and a ghost as my entire life, I was a freak and a reject who was slightly punk at school. Pitied, because my brother and parents died. So I was pretty miserable in the friend department. _

_But as I had matured, men and women threw themselves at me, and Alma took care of the ones who took it too far after a simple rejection. But I did feel bad. Rejection hurts. _

_The next tragedy was when I was almost 19. Dylan was walking home, and got hit by a drunk driver. _

_By this point I thought I was going insane, or was cursed, or both. And so Alma and Alistair were my life supports. I was only horribly depressed after the loss of my parents, it wasn't suicidal. My first brother, I had thought of self-harm, my second brother…I picked up a habit. I and Alistair both picked up a habit. A drinking habit._

_Looking back on it, I'm glad Alma kept us away from smoking and drugs and what not. And life was starting to become slightly manageable with a glass of whiskey at night with my brother, we had become really close. _

_It was when I was 20, and he was 30, did the next tragedy occur. He was stabbed. The criminal was eventually caught, and put away for life, but it wasn't enough, Closure, somewhat- but not healing. Alma stayed by me and tried to cheer me up, but I had no one left, I put what scraps of hope I had left, in my older brother and now I had to do everything, run the house, do my college work and try and keep some form of social life (I had become quite popular with a total of 5 close friends) and of course, quality time with Alma. She saw me spiral deeper and deeper into a self-induced darkness. _

_I got drunk more often (even though I got told I couldn't hold my liquor, it took a couple hours drinking to get me totally smashed) and shut more people out._

_I cried almost every day, and got interested in darker things. Darker rock music. Darker clothes than usual, I even died a streak of my hair temporarily black. (since Alma had convinced me to keep it temporary) and I got a few more piercings, I wrote darker poetry and read darker horror._

_I watched the odd horror film, read the odd creepy pasta online, watched the odd lets play. Before, now I spent more of my time watching them with Alma. She only liked to watch the ones made by a man named "PewDiePie" since he was funny, even when it was scary. And even some of it scared her. _

_She refused to watch it if anyone else was playing it. And she didn't read the creepy pastas, and only watched the movie with a pillow to hug to death. I could tell she was worried but I was past caring, at my lowest point. But normally I was sad that she was concerned. I wanted to make her feel better, but couldn't help my despair._

_I was diagnosed with depression, my grades dropped and I got in trouble allot. Alma scolded me, but I ended up crying into her arms. I was about to go back to university, at the age of 21, I decided to move, to try and help my fragile state. I moved as far away from England as I could think. And where was that, you may ask? It was America. And that, was where our lives, (or rather my life and her after life) changed forever. _


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur studied the house before him. It wasn't very big, nor was it small. Alma floated beside him. "It's nice." She said. He nodded, if anyone walked past, speaking wasn't an option. Because people just couldn't see his ghostly guardian. He would be starting his new university in one week, his stuff arriving tomorrow. So with the one case he had (which Alma helped pack, containing clothes food and water as well as a portable DVD player with a few movies that were aiming to be positive. As well as money important documents and learning resources.)

Kissing the outside world goodbye, he opened the door to the medium sized house, near the university, with ivy up the walls and a small white fence. The houses next door looking similar. In fact most of the houses looked like his, except this one had ivy, the others didn't, this one reeked character, the others didn't. he wasn't sure what exactly made him buy this house, maybe it was Alma girl squealing about how quaint it looked. How British it looked, so he could always feel at home. He wanted to get away from home. But he wasn't ready to let go. Not quite yet.

He dumped his things in the room he proclaimed his bedroom, the master bedroom of the house, second floor, first door on the right. The room opposite was to be dubbed the guest room (and Alma in human forms room, but guests didn't need to know that, right?) the furniture, consisted of shelves in each room, the kitchen and bathrooms done up quite modern, following a Victorian design.

The bathrooms were red white and blue. (Which amused him to no ends, why did America and the UK have such a rivalry to have the same three colours in their flags? Can't say red white and blue without including the British too, Alma had joked once.)

He knew that Alma was Spanish and English, but that's all he knew of her heritage. When he was 13, he opted to take Spanish at school, so they could talk to each other in two languages. (she occasionally sang and spoke to him in Spanish when he was a child, and even now, and gave him nick names in Spanish every so often, mostly she called him Iggy, why he had no clue- or Artie, or sometimes even just Arthur.)

And the house was quite clean (much to the pairs liking) with working hot water and electricity (but no heating, much to Arthurs chagrin.) The gas also worked, and Alma, as usual had opted to cook. (She didn't have to heart to say it- but he couldn't cook to save himself.)

And, as usual, Arthur sat in his room, and either stared at a picture and cried of his family, or watched some horror games. Tonight, he was watching a game called _Amnesia, the dark descent._

The guy playing it was pissing himself, and it amused Arthur. He wouldn't admit it if you asked, but he was scared himself. But the thrill of the scare was fun, even Alma had admitted it. But still refused to watch anyone other than PewDiePie. (A/N who is amazing, by the way. Don't own him either, darn.)

Alma, on the other hand, had gone into her human form and grabbed some money from Arthur`s case (Arthur knew she took his money to go shopping and had no problem, she was a ghost, she couldn't get a job or earn any money herself. And using her human form too long was a draining thing)

She always did the shopping, her lovely charge, Iggy (based of the Japanese word for England, Igirisu, because in a past life, Arthur was an important ambassador from England, who went to Japan to represent England, and they constantly called him that. And constantly called him "Tsundre" So Alma came up with that lovely nick name for him) never left the house unless he really had too. Which was school, social appearances (because they couldn't see Alma too often) and formal business relating to school, and soon enough, work.

She bought the ingredients for a dish she hadn't made in a while, called patatas bravas. A Spanish dish of tomatoes, vegetable's (mainly onions and peas), sometimes chicken, sometimes even meatballs (which when she made the dish, were made by hand) and most importantly, potatoes.

As she cooked in the kitchen, the smell travelled upwards, eventually hitting Arthur's nose, intrigued, he went down stairs.

"What are you cooking?" he asked peering over her shoulder. "Patatas bravas, a Spanish dish." She said. She didn't often cook Spanish food, when she did, it was omelettes, or dishes with bacon chicken and peas as a side, she hadn't cooked Patatas bravas (or her beloved homemade meat balls) since before his parents died. Hell, he was about 9 last time. So, he grinned for the first time in a long time, and brought his phone downstairs, continuing to watch videos. (He made sure they were PewDiePie so Alma could listen as she cooked)

When the dish was done, the technology was away, and the two ate their food. And Arthur was actually quite happy, but it saddened him at the same time, so focusing on the small shred of happiness the meal gave him, he smiled, and after, thanked Alma and helped clean up with her.

She then switched to her ghost form, hovering slightly off the ground. (That was how she stood, if she was to stand on the actual ground, she would go right through it) walking (seemingly on air) she sat cross legged next to England. (Hovering a couple of centimetres off the ground, mind you) and smiled at him. "Glad you liked it; it's good to see you smile again Iggy." She smirked; the origins of the nickname infuriated the Brit to no end.

"I don't know why you insist on calling me that bloody nick name…" he said pouting ever so slightly. "It's for me to know and you to find out~" she cooed. "When will I find out about my past lives though?" he asked, maybe he could finally know something for once.

"Well, I can give you little hints and tips, but you will find out eventually, I'm not too sure when." Pout becoming slightly more noticeable now, since he couldn't get the answer he wanted, he looked over at the Hispanic woman.

She had tanned skin and chocolate brown eyes, long brown hair put in an abnormally neat pony tail that went to the small of her back, and was dressed in WW2 army combat clothing. (he had yet to receive an answer for that, she simply shrugged when he asked) the actual top of the combats, was tied round her waist making a mini skirt round her back, and she wore a white vest top. On her feet were skilfully polished black boots. He had noticed that the jacket for the combats tied round her waist had a union jack on it. She was also lined with a white aura that was almost heavenly. So even in a dark room her figured would be outlined. It wasn't very bright, but it looked rather enigmatic.

She had a natural redness to her cheeks and full red lips, plump, like a ripe tomato. He once asked if she wore make up, and she shook her head. And told him most ghosts don't have make up, and that when she was alive it was almost impossible to wear on a day to day basis, and didn't look that nice anyway.

That told him she was from a time where make up wasn't very common, it was probably made form berries and bugs and oils. Like when they used lead in face powder. That pinned her between 1500 and 1900.

"want dessert? I could make churros! I'd have to go out again though." She said, happy and chirpy, it just seemed contagious sometimes. Over the past few years she hadn't been so chirpy; it was nice to hear that perk of energy in her voice again.

"No thank you, I think we can just relax this evening. I'm full. And you don't want to waste your human form. Straining yourself isn't what we need, why don't we watch one of the movies? What did you pick?" Alma smiled and hovered upstairs, to the case, and came back down. (going directly through the ceiling, of course) and came back with home alone (one AND two) Hairspray and fool's gold.

Four movies undoubtedly funny, to try and get the mood more positive, she had gotten a smile, could she get a laugh?

The movie was about to start when the doorbell was rung. Perplexed, Arthur answered, Alma close behind. A tall, well built man, around Arthur's age, with blonde hair, with one strand that seemed to refuse to be flattened, lightly tanned skin and blue eyes, magnified behind a pair of glasses, was standing smiling brightly at the Englishman.

"Hi! I'm Alfred F. Jones! I live next door, in that house there!" he pointed to an almost identical house but instead of being made of green painted wood like Arthurs, it was coated in a slightly dulling yellow paint. And like Arthurs new home, had white around the windows and the roof was a pristine white, except his looked slightly dull. And his house didn't have ivy up the walls.

"Hello…I'm Arthur Kirkland…" he wanted to introduce Alma, but of course he couldn't see her. He felt bad. He was a gentleman after all, Self-proclaimed or not.

"Wow, your English, huh? That's so cool!" The usually tsundre (another word Alma Learned in Japan 1859.) Arthur smiled and blushed slightly making Alma grin.

"well, yes…" he replied, refraining from stuttering. Human interaction just wasn't his thing anymore! And it sure seemed like Alfred's, he looked like the popular kind of guy, however annoying and obnoxious his mind warned him he was sure to be, Arthur couldn't quite help finding him attractive.

Wait slow down there Iggy boy. Attractive? He had discovered he was gay when he was about 15. Barley past 14. So…noting an attractive male isn't such a bad thing, right?

"Nice to meet you Artie! I'm here to welcome you to the neibour-hood and stuff, plus if you are the age area I think you are, you're going to uni, right?" a nod from Arthur. "Then we might be going to school together!" Arthur wasn't sure if he was going to have a heart attack or squeal like Alma when she saw the house.

"Hetalia Acadamy, right?" Alfred broke Arthur out of his haze. "yes, that's where ill be going. Thank you for welcoming me, I didn't expect it. What will you be studying?" he inquired thinking;

"_Please let me be wrong and you have some form of intelligence! It would make you even better!" _

Turns out he did have some form of intellect.

"yea, I'm doing sports and I'm studying history and law." Oh thank god.

Alma watched Arthur's expressions and giggled quietly; she could read Arthur's face like a book and saw his mental debating, and hoping he was smart as he was loud. (This, in case you're wondering, was quite loud)

"That's interesting, I'm studying history English and music." He said pondering. Before adding "maybe we`ll have history together." His cheeks dusting light pink, Alfred's had done the same.

Now, the two were taking their courses for very different reasons. Alfred was taking law because his father was forcing him to become a lawyer. And he was taking Sport because it's what he loved to do in his spare time and was quite good at it. He was taking history because he fell in love with history. Though he couldn't understand all of it, some of it was quite interest, really. An interest which had suddenly become more interesting.

Arthur was taking Music to give him some hope of a career outside of a restraunt. And he was quite talented with the guitar, (Alma and his brothers and a couple of his old friends told him so, along with some teachers) and he held a passion for playing. It let his emotions run wild.

He felt the same about English, and he loved writing. He loved learning about authors and he loved reading. Especially reading.

Arthur was taking history for two reasons. One, he wanted to see if he could learn anything about Alma, or any of his own past lives, and two, he always had had an affinity for history.

The two thought for a second, and Alfred could have sworn he felt someone was behind Arthur, it felt colder on his left than his right, and the hairs of his neck were standing on end, but, there was no one there…right? _Right?!_

Being the wussy he is when it comes to horror, much unlike Arthur. He almost whimpered at the thought of a spirit lurking in Arthurs house, he wanted to warn him and get him out but, he'd just weird Arthur out and, he would admit, he may have huge eyebrows, but he was hot.

Oh snap, Alfred F. Jones, you've got yourself a crush.

"Hey, can I, you know, come over, when you get your stuff, help you unpack?" he asked suddenly.

"What makes you ask that?" Arthur enquired, he knew the man what, five minutes?

"I'm the hero, so I gotta help people, right? It's the heroic thing to do!" Alfred said smiling like a sun on fire, Arthur sighed. "yes you can…I'm getting my things tomorrow. Come round about 4." He said Alfred nodded and pulled his phone out, finding a very crumpled piece of paper in his pocket with a long forgotten pencil, and wrote something down, handing it to Arthur.

Arthur went a slight tinge pink and Alma had resorted to staring at Alfred thoughtfully. It was his phone number. "Just give me a quick text ok? See ya!" and with that the overly happy American walked away, leaving a shocked Brit standing in his doorway.

Now Alma was quite shocked to see Alfred. Because she remembered Alfred very well.

When she was alive.

In this time, Arthur was in love with Alfred. And Alma and Arthur had a disagreement. Causing allot of deaths. This disagreement was over Alfred. Because, Alfred, being Almas best friend and cousin, was quite important to her, and being Arthurs one true love, meant he meant allot to Arthur, as well. And the fight followed. Unsure what to do with his life, unsure where to go and who to leave behind, he decided the world benefited from his loss, and put a gun to his head. Arthur then blamed Alma for his loss.

Thinking of the memories, made her shudder visually and audibly. "ugghh" she shuddered, teeth lightly chattering. "What`s wrong Alma? Don't you like Alfred?" Arthur asked, almost upset, was there something wrong with Alfred? Did he have to cancel his plans?

"Nothing just…a memory. You're not going to believe this…but he's been reincarnated from when I was alive." And Arthur did a double take at the street from the door so recently closed, to the ghost hovering in his living room (in progress).

"He`s from your life? Why tell me this now?" Arthur demanded.

"I haven't seen him since he died! Besides I didn't know you were going to meet him…joder…"

That's another thing she did, curse in Spanish.

"He…died?" Arthur asked, suddenly shy. "Don't worry about it. I just wanted to tell you because I think something big is going to happen. And it involves him. Shits going to go down…if you know what I mean" the way she said it, saying shits going down was almost completely alien to her.

Nodding Arthur tried to push it out of his mind but… he couldn't. some time, a few centuries ago, the guy next door was involved with Arthur and the ghost standing in front of him. The two plonked themselves back in front of the movie, still on the title screen. (they had decided on home alone one.) And snuggled in some blankets Arthur had in his case, which he had decided to bring downstairs.

"Why didn't you ever get reincarnated Alma?" Arthur asked, staring at the screen, play still hadn't been pressed.

"I was chosen to protect you. Watch over you. Apparently I have a reason to still be here like this. I don't know though."

What she did know, was it was because out of all the people Arthur hurt in that life, he hurt Alma the most. And that to make her happy whole and able to cross over to even get the chance to think about being reincarnated, she had to figure out what she needed to figure out, but that was where her knowledge ended.

She wasn't going to tell Arthur of the life she first met him, he had to be ready. He had to be able to handle the information. He had to find out the right way.

The two watched a movie and ate some snacks. (Alma went into her human form to eat them and wrap the blankets round herself, as she usually did when the two watched movies) and they laughed together when the two (fail) criminals were trying to get inside the house, their determination, Alma had to say, was astounding.

After the files (they had followed it up with home alone two) the sun had set and Arthur needed to set up a bed. Alma offered to help, Arthur politely declined.

After setting up the aforementioned bed, Arthur yawned and crawled under the covers, shivering slightly. Alma smiled and hovered nearby. Repeating something from Arthur's childhood, From when the monsters in the closet (yes, they exist. But only people with the sight can see them.)

"_don't worry, I'm here, ill protect you. I'm not going anywhere, and nothing will touch you." _

_**Ok. Not getting allot here…like I said, I own nothing but OCs and plot. Hopefully this will have gotten your interest, since it took two days and 6 pages to complete. Reviews and suggestions kindly welcomed. Flamers not allowed, ciao~**_


	3. Chapter 3

_Unpacking more than just boxes. (__**don't make me remember!) **_

Alfred had arrived ten minutes late (much to Arthurs irritation) and had denied it calling it "fashionably late" Alma was, slightly confused, as her time period, lateness was a no-no. but, she had heard the term used, and was vaguely sure of its meaning.

She giggled at his antics and commented on his jokes. (not that Alfred could hear, nor could Arthur answer) but thanks to Alfred (almost abnormal) strength, his new home was staring to look like a well looked after home, and one you would want to live in comfortably. With a proper egyptain cotton, duck down bed (Alma was jealous, but was satisfied when a replica was placed in "her room") the carpets revitalised, (vanish), the furniture placed, polished and filled. But Alma wanted desperately to help Arthur. But with Alfred there, she couldn't, so she pouted allot, and did rooms near Arthur making them extra clean.

And rooms that weren't painted, (which was a bathroom and an empty room to be used as a place of study and work) was painted by said ghost in her human form. (who had refused to paint in her combats, and borrowed clothes from the Englishman) and she heard their laughter, Arthur yelling at Alfred for being such a wanker (though she knew he really liked Alfred) and messing around in general. Joking, laughing and for the first time in years, Arthur was _happy _and _himself. _Not some suicidally depressed delinquent young adult.

So she knew that this idea was a good one, a success and that things were going to pick up from here.

But in the living room, the two were about to have an episode.

"hey, Artie?" Alfred asked, finishing unwrapping the previously bubble-wrap coated photo frame, inside containing a photo of Arthur, as a young adult (around 14) with three other boys (he presumed brothers) one with short ginger hair and a blue and white suit and eyes that weren't quite blue, and weren't quite green, one with shoulder length brown hair and casual clothes on with blue eyes, the other a shoulder length ginger with piercing emerald eyes, more intimidating than his brothers, A woman with long blonde hair and green eyes and a man with brown hair and blue eyes. They all seemed very happy, and there was a space for one other person to fit behind Arthur, the space irked him, since he felt the presence of the "spirit" inside the doorway, and his mind conjured the worst images, from the scariest things he knew.

"Yes?" he answered irritably. "Who are all these people?" he asked innocently. Arthur took one look at the photo and his eyes widened and watered.

"Put it down Alfred." He said quietly. "What why I"- "_put it down Alfred!" _he repeated fiercely, he put it face down on a nearby cupboard.

Arthur took a deep breath. Thinking of the gap in the photo, where Alma had been standing, a hand on his shoulder, telling him to smile as wide as he could, and not do a stupid face.

"That, Alfred is a picture of my family" he said simply. "Awwww, do you miss them? Are they still in England? We could go visit them and-"once again he had been cut off.

"No we can't do that Alfred." He said looking down. "Huh? Why not?" Alfred pouted, not realising the atmospheres tense feel.

"_Because _Alfred, they _died." _And Alfred's body went limp, jaw going slack. "I'm so sorry…is that why you moved here?" a smile nod and Arthur cleared his throat. "I don't want your pity. Just…don't talk about them just yet. I'm not ready." Nodding Alfred looked decently serious.

_See? If he was like this more often I would love him mo- whoa whoa whoa. Yea, he's hot. And I like it when he's serious. But that doesn't mean I love him. But the word…it feels so natural, it's like I've used it a thousand times before to describe him. _

It was then the American did something unexpected. He leaned forward and hugged the Englishman. He went stiff at first, blushed, relaxed and wrapped his arms around Alfred, greeting the warm feeling Alfred embrace seemed to give him. When was he ever going to get this again?

When Dinner time rolled around, Alma had already turned back into a ghost, (having done one room and started on the next) Arthur barley realised (time difference) and it was Alma who had woken him up that morning, because his body thought he could still sleep. So as the American left, Arthur sighed, a content sigh, like a girl in school, in love with the class heartthrob, and sighed as he passed her, like you see in movies.

But this was no movie.

The movies would come later, Alfred and Arthur had agreed to have a horror movie a thon. And if they didn't finish, they could meet up another day. Arthur was always cautious when watching horror movies or games, he never watched things with ghosts in them, because he thought he would offend Alma. Or scare her, or annoy her. And he knew that the probability of him bringing over some ghost-themed movies was more than likely. So he was worried.

Alma had decided to order food for dinner that day; she wanted to try American pizza. And so, she made Arthur ring in for a double cheese pepperoni pizza with cheese stuffed crust and cheesy garlic bread. Although he got the smallest size, it took them both great will-powers to finish the food. Patting her currently human tummy, Alma sat beside Arthur as he tried to digest the food, muttering about not eating at all if possible, doubting that, and not very often as a compromise. Laughing quietly at his mutterings, she cleared up the dishes.

When he had "recovered" Alma sat with him, and by the look on her face, her care free smile slowly faded, and she saw, that he and her were going to discuss this business, his past lives, her and what was going on this his current life, looking at the clock she saw Alfred was due back for his horror movie a-thon with Arthur in half an hour, maybe she could watch with them?

"Alma…." Here it comes; she wondered what he was going to ask.

"Yes, Arthur." She replied, he almost laughed, knowing she knew what subject he was about to touch on. He looked at the woman's clothes.

"Why do you wear combats that look like they're from world war two?" she frowned slightly, that was it? Her clothes? Though she supposed they were a little odd, but she wouldn't take them off for anything. He had asked a few times, it also told him about his past life, a particular life she both hated and loved. He was such a good man in that life, not that he wasn't now.

He was just so happy. He helped out whenever he could. He was beaming wherever he went, and had a wife and two children. in the year of 1942, he was carted off to the front lines, and she followed him. She used her human form allot, pretending to be a male solider. (she flattened her breasts and putting on a little weight to hide her curves slightly)

He fought bravely, and he shoved another man out the way as a bomb went off, and he was blown to kingdom come. She, afterwards had some time to blow, and watched over his family. Receiving and dealing with the news, the funeral and memorial, and his kids started to grow up. His wife re-married after ten years.

She was heartbroken, but she always was when Arthur died, but it tugged at her heart strings more than usual. He had been reincarnated so quickly after his previous death in 1912, Being born again in 1919. Those two were heart wrenching more so than others, even though all of his deaths only got more and more painful.

"Because, that's where there from" she replied, barley a minute had passed, and she had recounted quite a few sad and bittersweet memories.

Arthur took a minute to process what he had just been told.

"so…I was, in…" she nodded, she had always wanted to tell him. She had always wanted to spin the tales of his many lives, and tell him about when she was alive. About how close him her and Arthur really were. Friends and lovers.

"Did I…make it out, alive I mean?" her face fell and he instantly knew her answer, "im afraid not. But you saved a man's life. Your children idolised you, the man you saved made it his mission to find your family and thank them personally for your bravery. You got a medal." His smile was there, but it was a sad smile.

"Why did you keep the clothes? Haven't I lived since then?" she nodded; he was the first punk rocker, who died of a drug overdose in 1978. And the Arthur Alma has come to care about deeply, like every other incarnation, was born in 1992. And here he was, thinking about his apparent life in the Second World War.

"I take it that's all I'm learning about for now?" he asked jokingly, Alma laughed. "I can tell you stories from that life, it's like you've unlocked a level. But don't think all of your lives will be that easy to get from me, I just think, hey, you're starting to mature allot more, and you may be close to ready." But the equal sadness and happiness in her eyes frustrated her to no end, he was in danger even more so now, and it would grow worse the more he knew.

And soon, the souls from his previous lives who wish him harm with find him. And her job will really be in business.

As the two sat in though a certain blonde haired American burst through the door, without knocking, of course.

"Hey Artie I brought like, 6 movies and"- he stopped, sitting there, was Arthur, on the floor, leaning against the newly placed beige couch, knees hugging his chest and arms wrapped around his knees, next to him a girl in a similar position, wearing what looked to be British army fatigues.*

"Hi! I'm Alfred! Are you a friend of Artie`s?" Alma smiled. Arthur had paled, frozen and ridged; it was as if his mind was processing what had just happened.

"I'm Alma; yes I'm very close with Iggy here." Arthur's eyes widened as Alma smirked. She did _not _just use that nickname in front of him.

"Iggy? Haha! I like that name for you Artie! Are you gona watch the movies with us?" Alfred asked beaming, and before she could answer, Arthur snapped out of Arthur processing mode.

"Alfred you bloody git! Who told you you could come in here! Is it normal here to just walk into someones home?! I have a guest!"- "Calm down, id love to watch the movies with you. What did you bring?" she smiled, and Arthur paled slightly further.

And so, Alfred reeled out a small list of horror movies, _Paranormal Activity 1&2, the woman in black, , the ring, Ghostbusters 1&2._

_Ghostbusters? _

"Isn't this comedy?" Arthur asked, frowning. "yea, but I wanted ghostly themed movies, there the most exciting and scary!" Alma giggled, Arthur almost physically facepalmed.

During these movies, Alma got scared and three of them. The two _paranormal activity _movies, and _the ring._ These terrified her. But she pouted, laughed and frowned and the other movies.

Muttering things to Arthur, like;

"_That's a load of bullocks. A ghost would never act like that."_

"_We can't even do that."_

"_Most of us aren't scary, at least not on purpose. We can if we want too, but that's mainly because you idiots watch these movies and scare yourselves, im never going near a well, marsh or letting you move into a house older than you ever!" _

And although, she was scared, she knew these things were made up, specifically to scare people. But she couldn't help herself. She knows that no, demons like the ones in the movies don't exist. They don't take over people. They mess with their decisions and haunt. It scares the crap out of people and they leave, and the demon normally stays so it can torment someone else. Or they are very physical creatures, that had a score to settle on earth, much like Alma, they have a solid and ghostly form. Very uncommon, though.

People with the sight can be corrupted by such beings. She shuddered. Remembering her life.

_No! Don't think of him! Don't think of…._

She bit back tears.

_No. not him either. _

She clenched her fists.

_Don't think of that guy either. The three of them all played parts in your death. One made it not matter as much; one watched helplessly…the other…caused it. _

That's right. Alma was murdered.

_Stop it! _

"Excuse me, just a second, ladies room!" giggling, a false giggle, that Alfred seemed to buy, but Arthur wasn't so sure. She left the two, trying to distract herself thinking of how much the two seemed to like each other already, but it all brought her back to people she hadn't thought of for centuries.

"_Please. Let the last thing I see be your smile, my love." _

No…no…no…

Tears flowed freely now. Sobs that only Arthur could hear, she had gone back into ghost form,He walked silently too the door, telling Alfred to stay there. Thinking it was the movies.

"_My own half-sister, How our mother betrayed me, for you. Because your father had money"_

"They were only movies, Alma." He said quietly. The door was locked.

"It wasn't the movies." She replied, her normally perfect hair askew. Now, Arthur on the outside was silent, slow-moving but relatively calm, inside he was having a heart attack, he was panicking. She never did anything like this, she was always so…on top of it all. Nothing really depressed her, yes, Arthur depressed state depressed her, but she never cried. Is this why she never talked about her life and Arthurs previous lives? Did speaking of that one in world war two evoke memories she did not want to face?

Turns out he had the detective skills of Sherlock Holmes, because he was exactly right.

"I don't want to think of them. I don't understand, Arthur. I've pushed them out of my mind for hundreds of years. Why in god's name…maybe Alfred's presence is something more, this life is going to be important. Trying, and he has unknowingly reminded me of times I'd rather forget. Involving him, and you, and me."

She had answered and asked Arthurs minds questions. It was like asking questions, questions, but what answer can one give to another, when they don't know the answer to themselves?

Then it hit her.

_Maybe I'm going to find out what I need to find. Maybe we can both have targets beyond staying safe._

If she doesn't know what she`s looking for, how can she help Arthur accomplish what he needs to, to repay his debt to the cosmos? To fix the souls he had managed to shatter?

Now, Arthur, in his 13th life, had met Alma for the first time, and he was pleasant in bed, and in nothing else. (she had heard this from a wench he had bedded, before he met Alfred) he killed without second thought, and if he deemed death _too good for you _he would do unspeakable, _unthinkable _things, to make you wish death would carry you away in his cold arms. It was said, he had an alliance with the devil himself, so, if you looked him in the eye too long, you would be cursed, or you would lose your mind. No one really looked him in the eye long enough to find out.

But Alma did, and she could tell you his eyes did no such thing. They outraged her, frustrated her and fascinated her at the same time, beautiful, yes, but the emotions they held were so _low _andso _cold _that it made her want to throttle him.

But she never got that chance. And she never would. Because, in his next life, when things were wobbly, he still had those eyes, but they belonged to a child, and they were so beautiful then.

Were his eyes, like that? Before he was corrupted by a god of death? A demon among demons?

She kept herself locked in the bathroom, just thinking. She was in human form again. And Alfred ad joined Arthur in standing outside the door, she had told them she felt slightly sick from the pizza, she had stopped crying. Her mind pondering the past, she had refused to let it do so since she died. She almost laughed when she remembered after she died. She demanded to know what the bloody hell was going on, and was emotionally unstable, until she had it explained to her.

Along with her job. And her plan, (to stay distant from his reincarnated form and only help him when desperately needed) failed. They had grown close, and she couldn't bring herself to forgive, nor hate, nor forget, those emerald orbs.

He carried them in every life. Each life, his eyes were the one thing that stayed the same. And she still loved the people Arthur became. None of them were evil, yes, they may have taken tax dodges, or slapped a woman that one time (she didn't talk to him for a month afterwards, in the 1800`s) and had actually gotten so drunk, he was convinced, he was William Shakespeare. (funniest thing, ever but she refused to go in human form and be seen with him for a while afterwards)

She unlocked the door, and Arthur and Alfred hugged her. She smiled a still slightly teary smile.

"I'm sorry about that, some of that food didn't agree with me, I'm fine now. That doesn't normally happen…" _but I would expect it to happen again. If I meet …them…_

After Alfred had left (hoping she got better so that they could eat pizza together next time.)

Arthur sat her down. In ghost form, as the early morning hours rolled past.

She refused to tell.

"No! Arthur, listen…" her voice softened. She had even less heart to tell him about his 13th life, never mind his cooking. Everyone's 13th life was bad. She had been told.

"I don't want to tell you too much, the more you know, the more danger you`re in. it was the demons in the movies. I thought on what actual demons are like, and I was reminded of people I had tried to forget people who…" Arthur nodded in encouragement "Who?" he was eager now. "Who, I never wanted to remember. But I wanted to think of them every day." She said, leaving the Brit shocked, confused and sorrowful. "you haven't given me eye contact since…" he trailed off, it was as if looking at him increased her pain it was like- wait.

_Don't tell me…I did something to her…in a past life…_

But he most certainly had. Even if it wasn't him directly, it was him. and that night, he had the strangest dream, of pirate ships and a boy, with the most charming blue eyes.

*Fatigues is the American name for combats and I know that I have allot of viewers in the states, so fatigues, combats, same thing.

_I want to thank everyone for reading, favouriting and alerting, leaving a review mean Alma brings you a cookie! I don't own the movies mentioned either. Or Hetalia. Just the plot and the characters, well this was chapter three_- _**don't make me remember! **__I hope to see you in chapter 4! _


	4. im sorry

**I'm sorry.**

**I'm very sorry to say none of my stories can be continued. I know many of you wanted updates, and I was on the verge of completing editing on several chapters. But my dad's laptop, where all my stories have been written on for the past 3 years, stories I have strived to protect from my father's sight and delete button. Their data has disappeared. My dad tried to get all the data from the laptop recovered, but to no avail. I'm sorry to say but I have lost three years of late nights writing, waking up for school half asleep the next day, of begging for the laptop because there were words I just had to say, weekends I wrote in my room, enjoying every word I wrote, of fast typing sudden inspirations out of fear they may go away. All of it, gone. Never to return. Every word has been lost, and it was a huge loss, I feel like I have wasted the past three years, not only were the stories incomplete, but there were at least 20 other stories that were basic ideas I was working on before I uploaded them. I am very sorry. I am unsure whether to put my beloved stories up for adoption, and let another complete my work, or to rewrite it all, and take my story to a different place entirely. **

**I'd like to hear from you about this, what should I do? **

**Yours sincerely, A.A (Anne Awesome) **


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